Unwrapping Chris Page 3
What had turned the lovable sixteen-year-old virgin into a blatant hussy? What happened to her loving smile, sweet disposition, and truthfulness? She’d admitted to him when they had first kissed that she’d never been with a boy.
One part of his adolescent brain had whooped with joy. The feverish blood pounding in his young heart had prayed with thanks to God. He wanted to be her first, and had done his best to pleasure her before he’d filled a condom with his gush of…
“Shit!”
“Don’t yell at me. You’re the one that broke the mood by bringing up my dead husband.”
What?
Here he stood with a waning erection, wondering where he put his never-go-anywhere-without condom, when the words sunk in.
“Let me get this straight.” Chris stepped closer. Her womanly arousal wafted up. His cock sprung to attention.
Again.
“Your husband is dead.” He watched her shadow-filled face nod then placed both hands at her waist.
“You are technically a single woman.”
“Yes. So?”
She really was naïve. He would never poach, but her fragrance nearly tempted him to take their kiss-fest to another level. Instead, he smiled against her neck.
“Chris?”
Kissing her ear brought his lips against her silky skin. His breath brought forth a shiver all the way to his…
“My sporran!” With a jerk, his hands flew from her waist, to his rabbit fur purse. Holiday music drifted in from the end of the hall. The smell of cinnamon and pine also seeped in through the slightly open door.
With one backward step, he shut the door, found the latch, and locked it. By touch alone, his fingers found the wrapped package. It crinkled when he tore it open, and he barely saw her eyes widen in alarm just before she melted flat against the wall.
“I can’t get you out of my head, witch.”
“Same here.” Her words, like a whisper on the wind of a lonely Scottish moor, spoke to his heart. She slowly lifted the hem of her dress and widened her stance.
Chris coughed.
Nearly dropped the damn thing.
Raising the hem of his plaid, he gripped her once more about her waist, and lifted. “I’m sorry. I apologize in advance for…not waiting…to do this.” In one swift jerk, he plunged inside, sinking between her silken folds. Damp, hot inner muscles pulled him deeper.
Thankfully, he found her wet and ready for his forced intrusion. He shifted his stance, gathered strength, and shoved her legs upward. She crossed her ankles behind his back, while her hands clasped tightly behind his neck. Straining muscles melded with low moans that grew to a crescendo of groans and cries of delight.
Without warning, Jayne’s pleasure exploded all around him, and her shudders sucked him deeper, still.
“Oh, God, I can’t stop…I…”
“Don’t stop,” Jayne insisted.
Her never-ending climax accompanied her raspy demand and sent him over a high precipice. With the sound of Christmas carols from the other room amid voices raised in pure joy, he found his gratification while roaring his pleasure.
Moments passed as he came down to Earth.
He willed his legs to stay strong, since they had turned to rubber as soon as his orgasm shot straight to his toes. The euphoria slowly drained away, but her fragrance wrapped him in a cocoon of want. Still deep inside her, his erection hardened.
“Sweet Jesus,” she crooned. Jayne nuzzled the skin below his right ear. Devilish heat tempered to sweet warmth where her lips met his skin.
“Amen.” He released a pent-up sigh. When she disengaged her legs and slid her feet to the floor, he groaned.
“No, not yet,” he whispered.
“Chris, this was wrong. We can’t.”
The moment of truth had arrived. Could he give her his heart this time around? Had he found the woman he’d searched for? The same woman he had run from all those years ago?
Releasing her, he stepped away and sucked in several deep breaths. As he adjusted his kilt, straightened his sporran, and buttoned his jacket, other more timely questions popped into his head.
Jayne ran her hand down his sleeve, brushing the wool nap as if making sure he looked presentable. Then she spoke words that shocked him to his core.
“We should not have done that.”
Her words, barely a whisper, had the opposite effect. He would not run away this time, and he certainly wouldn’t let her push him away.
“I was wrong, back then. I should never have left without—”
“What’s done is done. I cried, but got over it.”
“Jayne, believe me. I was a kid. We both were. I meant to have you, but when I took your innocence, I panicked. Then I ran, with no thought of repercussions.”
“I figured that. It still hurt.”
“I swear I will never hurt you again.”
“Sounds like you plan to…what?”
Chris ran his hands over her shoulders and down her silky arms before resting them on the curve of her hips. The scent of cinnamon and vanilla—her fragrance—filled him, granting him the courage to win her over. Like I should have the first time.
“I want you.”
“Obviously.” She giggled, rubbing his semi-rigid reaction to her hand at his groin.
“I’m serious. When I saw you leaning over me—”
“After I ran you down with my car?”
He smiled. “Yes. When I saw you, an image filled my head, clear as a bell. I pictured a couple of blonde-headed girls running around our yard and a redheaded little boy in your arms. It scared me.”
She stood close, and absolutely quiet, as if she held her breath. Not the reaction he had foreseen. Of course, the idea of what he planned to do now, never existed before last week.
“That didn’t come out exactly right. What I mean, is I pictured you in my life surrounded by our children. Please tell me this is possible. Please make this Christmas the best I’ve ever had?”
“Oh, I don’t…”
His breath hitched as the doorknob jiggled.
“Christopher? You in there?”
“Shit,” he whispered. His friend, the brand new bridegroom, intruded at the most important moment in his life.
“Chris?” Jayne whispered.
“Yes, my love?”
“Do you?”
“Love you? I wasn’t sure what I felt when I saw you that day, while I lay on my aching back. I’ve spent a few sleepless nights contemplating my life ever since. I didn’t like what I saw. I want you in it. I love you.”
“What are you saying?”
“Will you, Jayne MacTavish…wait. I don’t even know your last name.”
Looking sheepish, she replied, “Rockwell. I only wear my wedding ring out of respect for a man who gave his life to defend our country.”
Chris understood, and nodded. He’d been lucky during his two tours in the Middle East.
“But, my life was less than Rockwellian. Johnny and I had problems. Only now do I realize I never really loved the man.”
Her words tore through him. Regret made him gather her into his embrace before finishing the most important question of his life.
“Will you, Jayne MacTavish Rockwell, do me the honor of becoming my wife?”
Her silence proved deafening, causing the blood to rush past his ears. Clenching his hands into fists, he turned from her and walked to the door. Chris unlocked the latch and peered out into a now-empty hall. Several cheers arose from the reception area at the end of the hall. A clock on the wall chimed midnight.
“It’s officially Christmas morning,” he said, turning to Jayne.
“Let’s remember this day. I’ll marry you. There’s just one thing.”
Happiness flooded him. He grabbed her in a hug and covered her mouth with his before she could say another word.
Then, as he swung her in a great circle, Chris whooped. Cool air whooshed past his thighs as his kilt flared outward. “Whatever it is, con
sider it done.”
“Since I already have two little blonde girls, it’s up to you to gift me with a little boy.” Jayne’s face sparkled under the hall lights while she smiled. With her lovely eyes glistening with tears, Chris pulled her into a deep embrace and kissed her.
Hard.
He chuckled as he pulled back. “There must be a sprig of mistletoe around here somewhere.”
As he took off down the hall and back toward the festivities, he remembered she was still in his arms. Pausing, he reluctantly set her on her feet. Her tears dried, and her smile widened.
“Who needs mistletoe?” she said, giggling.
“Shall we return to the party and share our good news? Chris said. Jayne nodded and they strode away together. The future would take care of itself.
The End
Acknowledgements
My heartfelt thanks to my son, Sgt. Eric Badger, who answered my questions and made sure I used the correct terminology as far as my hero’s profession and the army base were concerned. If he hadn’t decided to train and earn the rank of United States Army Drill Sergeant, I would not have had the opportunity to visit his base and come up with the premise for this book.
About the Author
After growing up in Huntington, New York, and raising two handsome sons in New Hampshire, Nancy and her husband moved to North Carolina where she writes full-time. Nancy is always watching for ideas for her next book. A visit to an army base, where her youngest son was training to become a Drill Sergeant, gave her this great plot idea. And the basis for a great love story! Nancy is a member of Romance Writers of America, Heart of Carolina Romance Writers, Celtic Heart Romance Writers, Fantasy-Futuristic & Paranormal Romance Writers, and the Triangle Area Freelancers.
CONTACT NANCY
Website:
http://www.nancyleebadger.com
Blog:
http://www.nancyleebadger.blogspot.com
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Goodreads:
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Reviews
- DRAGON Bites: I love Scottish mythology, and this book swept me away to the Highlands, a Scottish island, and Loch Ness.-Mickey
- Dragon’s Curse: Wow! This was a historical with a delicious paranormal twist… wild animals, a shipwreck, a witch, and ghosts. I loved it! —Mickey
- My Reluctant Highlander : Great story, humor, romance, it has it all!—Lala
- My Banished Highlander: Well written…well thought out plot, and very strong character development…a lot of drama, suspense and romance.—Time Travel Fanatic
- My Honorable Highlander was a great read and I totally look forward to Iona and Cameron’s story in the next book of the series. —Shelly at Dark Diva’s Reviews
- Southern Fried Dragon: Nancy Lee Badger is a keen storyteller who draws you in and keeps you reading until you get to the happily-ever-after. —Jan Romes
- Dragon In The Mist: A 2012 Reader’s Choice Award. Winner/1st Place in its category in the Silken Sands Self-Published STARS Contest. —Gulf Coast RWA
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